Hold On.

Every now and again I have a dream about my dad. It's very rare, maybe once every year or two. If I'm honest, sometimes, sometimes, I have this dream when I'm awake too. In the dream I had been laboring under the idea that he had died when I was young, and then, magically I find out he is alive and he wants me to be with him. In the dream I come to a body of water, I'm on a shore and he is on an island far off...and i see him there. He always looks as young as he did when he actually died. He beckons me smiling. I get so excited when I see him wanting me to come, I become overcome with joy. I rush towards the water. I MUST get to that other side where he is. I jump in right away. After a few strokes, I begin to panic: I didn't plan this very well. The water is sure to overcome me. I should have at least shed my jacket, which is now pulling me down. I'm not going to make it, I think. The thought of not being with him adds to my frenzy in the water and I begin to cry. I stop paddling my arms and I sit there, treading water looking towards him. And I know I can't get there.My heart breaks, like he died all over again. The dream always ends like that: Me, treading water looking at him. Him looking at me, smiling at me in a way that feels comforting and familiar. His eyes have this look that tells me he is sorry and that his heart is breaking too. But I can't get there. And then I wake up.

And when I wake up. I feel a thing that is least expected. I hope... for a moment I have this secret silly little thought, "Maybe it's true. Just maybe, he isn't really gone."

How funny our hearts are. We hold on, forever.

Please don't feel obligated to comment on this. I know it is a lot, and there's nothing to say. I just woke up from one of those dreams this afternoon, it got me thinkin'.